


Knot your type

by Timpini



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Biting, Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mutual Pining, but they are both idiots and don't realize it, if two alphas banged with both their knots would that be messed up or what, they are both alphas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timpini/pseuds/Timpini
Summary: “Didn’t you ever hear the story about Icarus, Kurusu-kun?” Akechi is placing his gun on the table and grabs his discarded mask from the floor to place next to the rest of his belongings. Nothing in his mannerisms even remotely indicate that they were just sharing bruising kisses not two minutes ago, even though Akira can still taste the lingering tang of Akechi on his tongue. Akira hums.“Get too close to the sun and you burn,” Akechi says low. Suddenly, his gaze is looking back over his shoulder right at Akira. Wine red nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils. Akira can only imagine how he looks in comparison.“You implyin’ I’m playing with fire?” There’s a challenge in his voice, and finally, Akira pushes off the wall. His hands come into his pockets as he walks forward to Akechi, his eyes watching every movement. They’re playing a cat and mouse game, and neither of them will give.“I’m saying you aren’t wise, yes.” A playful undertone comes through, and Akechi simply watches.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 184





	Knot your type

**Author's Note:**

> I started this months ago but can I finish anything in a small time frame? No, as I do not have the strength, and anyone that does is incredible.
> 
> This idea came because I had been seeing a lot of A/B/O dynamics coming about, but for these two, I really wanted them to be equals. I don't really see a lot of the fanfics of this genre explore the same dynamics, so I took a wack at it!
> 
> I really would like to do a follow up to this for 2/2, but we shall see! For now, I'll leave it as a one-shot. 
> 
> Thank's for reading!

Akira should know better. In fact, he  _ does _ , but he’s ignoring it. He tends to not be rational when it comes to certain things after all and, unfortunately, Akechi has become one of those things. 

The first time Akira meets him during their trip to the TV station, he notices that Akechi’s mouth twitches ever so slightly at the corner of his smiles. His eyes are glassy with the reflecting light, making them look sunken in and hollow. His complexion is perfect, so smooth that he looks like a doll.  _ Unreal.  _

His smell is that of lavender with something else lurking under the surface. It’s undeniably the scent of an alpha. There’s a hard edge to it. The other part of the scent is something that Akira can’t quite place exactly what it is, something just uniquely Akechi, and Akira begins to just accept and ignore it.

Until Akechi himself is too hard to ignore.

He’s at the cafe after school sipping a coffee so bitter it could make someone gag. He’s at his part-time jobs, whether it’s buying flowers or just passing through on a break for some noodles. Even if Akechi’s not physically there, his face is plastered across the televisions in Shibuya’s popular hangouts after school. On posters and billboards, tabloids and newspapers. No matter where he looks, Akechi’s plastic self is in front of him, to the point that the back of his head feels like he can smell him even when he’s not there.

Morgana says it’s probably just because of the irony of the situation. Akechi approached  _ them _ and didn’t realize that he was not only talking to a Phantom Thief he’s hunting, but the leader of them. They were against each other from the start, and yet Akira didn’t necessarily pull away. 

_ Why? _ Some part of him doesn’t want to know the answer, so he doesn’t consider it.

At this point though, they’re being blackmailed and sniffed out. Akira knew he shouldn’t underestimate Akechi. That’s why when all of his friends pile out of the small room after hearing Akechi’s grand plan, he doesn’t move. Akechi gives a soft hum and cocks his eyebrows up at him.

“Surprised?” His voice wavers to a sing-song. It’s teasing. 

“Not in the slightest,” Akira says, and he turns on his heel to head out behind them. He hears Akechi huff out air at his response.

It isn’t long until there are bright neon lights that flicker and change hues to the point it becomes nauseous. The static, booming music through the casino is jarring because it all feels too  _ real.  _ This palace has looked the most realistic out of all of them, right down to the people who have actual faces and glance at him. 

Ironically, the most out of place thing is Akechi’s eyesore of a white outfit. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Ryuji says. He’s currently bouncing the rod of his mace on his shoulder with dull noises.

“We’ve already discussed the need of getting a membership card to access the top floors.” Makoto huffs out a breath. Sometimes Akira wonders if she gets headaches from how much she has to repeat things.

“Yeah--mhm. How do we do that?” Ryuji enthusiastically nods. Akechi lets out an indignant sigh and steps forward.

“We’ll need to use the elevator to go to the only floor we do have access to. I believe there should be a signup desk up there. It is a casino after all, correct?” He says it so matter-of-factly, Akira thinks he probably scouted this place in advance. 

“Precisely. Let’s head on up.” Makoto takes the lead, her hand naturally finds the crease of Ryuji’s elbow and tugs him along. He lets out a squawk, his mace narrowly missing Ann in the side.

“Hey---would you watch where you swing that thing?!” Ann trots behind them and continues to chastise him. There’s a snort behind Akira, and Futaba begins to walk at her own pace.

Akira waits behind for a moment. Ryuji keeps hitting the button for the elevator to come over and over to the point his finger probably feels smushed in. Yusuke says something like, “Does it really work?” to which Futaba gives a look and says “Inari…” and that’s about where that conversation ends. 

They all begin to pile in like sardines packed into the tiny elevator. Akechi turns on his heel, his head cocking slightly in Akira’s direction.

“Shall we?” He purrs. It sounds so ridiculous that Akira has to hold back his snort like Futaba and just shrugs his shoulders. 

Once inside the elevator, there are so many scents combined that Akira’s nose scrunches up. He holds his breath for the rest of the way. Ann seems to also flinch slightly, the same with Akechi’s discomfort. The rest of the Thieves seem to watch the ascension through the glass walls. 

Ann is the first to press out after a loud  _ ding _ . She shakes herself and pushes a pigtail behind her shoulder. 

“Hey, is that the place Crow mentioned?” There are gaudy lights that trail in a circle above the counter. A shadow is perched eerily, staring ahead at nothing.    
  


They’re on autopilot from then on: Get the points to progress their membership card, and further their investigation into Sae Nijima’s palace. This involves playing games and exposing the casino as nothing more than an unfair stakes situation that is  _ never _ in their favor. 

That same autopilot is probably why at some point Akira’s brain stops considering the best course of action, causing all the lights and sounds of the casino to blend in a haze until something fast and hard knocks him off his feet. He hits the ground with a thud, eyes snapping back open only to meet those of a shadow. The gnarled mass snarls horribly at him before wisping away into the crowds, leaving him shuddering and frozen.

“Joker!” Futaba’s voice is far off. The other sounds are too, while his eyes flutter against the pinpricks across his skin.

“Someone treat him!” Morgana supplies. There’s a lapse in himself where he feels his legs crumble from under him. The floor isn’t warmer. There’s movement around him and suddenly, his Personas are quiet. The normal buzz in his head is quiet and all he hears is the sound of his heartbeat reverberating in his eardrums.

Akira feels like he’s floating. There’s a hint of lavender that hovers near him. 

He comes back when something is too hot and his body seizes in on itself.

“Oh thank goodness, at least  _ that _ worked,” Makoto says arms are crossed like a scolding mother. Akira blinks and Futaba lets another noise out through her nose.

“He was beginning to look like one of those fudge pops that Ann splurges on and pretends we don’t notice,” Futaba jokes.

“Hey!” Ann turns away from Joker. Carmen disappears from her side and the spike in her anger causes her scent to become more noticeable. 

“Well,” Akechi’s voice cuts through the air like a knife, “if you are all quite done nearly getting yourself  _ killed _ by letting your guard down, I say we are done for today.” Akechi begins to walk away, readjusting one of those goofy looking shoulder pieces on his outfit. 

“Hey--hey wait!” Morgana begins to go after Akechi but an arm from Makoto stops him.

“Let him go. We have to make sure Akira is alright.” She leans down, her hand almost against his forehead. Akira’s body still feels like it’s covered in goosebumps that will pop into needle pricks. 

“I--” His voice is  _ hot _ and hurts. He swallows down some spit. “I’m alright.” He rolls himself up onto his knees and his wobbly legs. His senses are coming back and he’s feeling a bit overwhelmed. 

“Are you sure?” Makoto asks. Akira nods and lets his hands dig into his pockets. 

“You really think one little shadow is enough to get  _ him _ down?” Ryuji scoffs, throwing an arm across Akira’s shoulder. His enthusiasm is always the best, Akira thinks to himself. 

“Well no but---” 

“We shouldn’t keep going though.” Morgana turns away from where Akechi’s form retreated. His ears have gone back and almost flat against his head, concern showing through his eyes.

“Let’s call it a day?” Futaba leans forward on herself then back, her back cracking like a glow stick that doesn’t get enough usage.

It’s not far off from the truth all things considered, if all of her exercise routines were anything to go by. Akira thinks of many nights she cram reads books to ingest information and she calls it ‘mental gymnastics’. 

They all nod and collect themselves. They begin to walk towards the entrance to leave together, but Akira stops behind them.

“Is something wrong Joker?” Ann’s voice is soft. 

“Did Crow walk to the exit?” Joker doesn’t remember. He assumes not. 

“No---he went on ahead.” Morgana’s ears go flat again, his paws coming up to the front of himself and twisting around one another. Akira sucks his lip under his teeth in thought and hums.

“You guys go, I’ll make sure he gets out,” The words are out before he even considers them.

“Are you ah---sure about that?” Futaba’s eyes are wide. She’s trying to silently communicate to Akira that the thought is a  _ bad, bad,  _ **_bad idea._ **

“Yeah. It’ll be okay,” he says anyway. Akechi won’t act, not  _ yet. _ Not when he has a mission still to do. Not when Akira has to be framed. 

“Be careful, Joker.” Yusuke’s voice rings out, something odd to hear during missions sometimes. The sentiment isn’t lost and Joker lets out a small noise of appreciation. Akira’s hand comes up as he turns, waving them off.

  
  


Akira’s footsteps sink into the plush carpet with every step, the cold still barely there in his body slowly ebbing away. He scans the area and notices that the shadows nearby aren’t hostile, meaning the cognition of people Sae’s has conjured up wouldn’t notice him if he had a siren attached to his head.

So where?

The haze around a door near the elevator draws his attention. It flickers, unable to hold the space of the gaudy doors the rest of the casino has. 

Akira walks to it, pulling the door open with no effort and letting it close behind him. The noise of it closing doesn’t sound right. 

Inside the safe room, Akechi is in the corner. His fingers are thrumming in a rhythm on his forearm, crossed over his chest. He isn’t looking at Akira, but he knows Akechi knows he’s there.

“Hey--uh, I’ve come to pick you up.” Akira’s voice sounds almost unsure for a second, as if that’s not necessarily true.

A part of him is nagging that Akechi is there, Akechi is  _ here. _ There's a tug, a pull, like a moth being drawn to a light, 

Akechi pushes himself up into a standing position but still doesn’t turn fully to Akira.

“Ah yes, because truly I need an  _ escort _ with how much you and your friends dance around me.” Akechi’s voice sounds so sarcastic it’s almost like cold water got sprayed on Akira.

“What? No, I mean, I came to make sure you’re coming back,” Akira says, hands coming up as if to show Akechi he means no harm. 

“Well, your curiosity has been sated,” he quips. Akechi finally turns to him and walks towards him. His posture is so still he looks like a toy that’s been wound up far, far too much.

“What has you so off-put?” Akira questions.    
  


“Really? What’s making me so  _ irritable? _ ” Akechi’s voice begins to take on a different emotion, something Akira can’t quite catch. 

“Would you kindly think of not only your teammates but _yourself_ when you go headstrong into situations?” Akechi’s voice is quivering now. Ah, annoyance, Akira’s mind supplies. He feels like that’s a score in his book, all things considered.

“Aw, do you care about me, Mr. Detective?” Akira’s voice takes on a higher pitch, he brings a finger up to his lip and pouts it out a little, feeling his cockiness emanate through him effortlessly. 

Akira should know not to let Joker ooze into himself like that. Not to anyone like Akechi. 

Akira lets out a hot puff of air as his chest is pushed roughly with his back meeting the nearby wall. There’s a warmth over him immediately, invading his space and pressing forward. 

Goro Akechi smells like lavender, but it’s always diluted with those god awful colognes. At this moment though, they’ve been wiped away by the sweat beginning to form along his skin. Akira presses his face forward, his nose nudging into the crease where Akechi’s neck meets his shoulder. He inhales and feels the inside of his head turn into cotton. Akira’s form shudders, goosebumps prickling along his skin. Goro Akechi’s scent is so  _ dizzying _ . 

There’s a part of Akira that wants to recoil. The natural alpha who feels disgusted enough that another alpha is beginning to go into a rut near him. Something in him wants to fight, to prove. The other part though? That part knows it’s Akechi and wants to mark and _ claim.  _ It’s an odd sensation that’s causing the haze in his head to clear and fog repeatedly. 

There’s never been anything like this. At least, not in the textbooks, Akira had been forced to sit through in classes. Tales of the alpha and omega, how Akira was destined to most likely marry a nice beta, possibly be lucky enough to find a willing omega partner. There were never mentions of alphas who felt like the opposite side of a coin. The sun to the moon; the air to dying lungs. The night to the day. 

So, Akira simply breathes in Akechi’s scent again and lets his eyes flutter. His mouth is dry and god,  _ he wants. _

Above him, Akechi knocks him back into reality, as a rough hand cards into his hair and pulls him back. Akira hisses a breath between his teeth and squints his eyes open, his lips falling back to show teeth, a growl tumbling past his throat reflexively. 

“I hate you.” It’s said so flat that if it were anyone besides Goro Akechi, Akira might’ve believed them. However, he knows that Akechi is a  _ liar.  _ He talks through his eyes, and those have blown pupils and are glossy. 

“Yeah?” Akira’s voice comes out rough like gravel, “Keep tellin’ yourself that.” He lets the sarcasm ooze into it because he’s not in  _ any  _ mood currently to entertain Akechi. Not with the smell of him in the air. Not with Akira knowing from that scent alone that Akechi is just as much of a mess as he is. 

Akechi’s body rumbles with his own growl and the grip in Akira’s hair tightens. 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that,  _ darling. _ ” It drips with saccharine to the point it’s practically honeyed. 

“Oh?” Akechi steps away from him with a ‘tch’. He turns on his heel and shrugs off his coat, glancing around the safe room and tossing it onto a table nearby. Akira’s eyes follow every motion; the smell of Akechi still on his collar bleeds into his senses. 

“Didn’t you ever hear the story about Icarus, Kurusu-kun?” Akechi is placing his gun on the table and grabs his discarded mask from the floor to place next to the rest of his belongings. Nothing in his mannerisms even remotely indicate that they were just sharing bruising kisses not two minutes ago, even though Akira can still taste the lingering tang of Akechi on his tongue. Akira hums. 

“Get too close to the sun and you burn,” Akechi says low. Suddenly, his gaze is looking back over his shoulder right at Akira. Wine red nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils. Akira can only imagine how he looks in comparison. 

“You implyin’ I’m playing with fire?” There’s a challenge in his voice, and finally, Akira pushes off the wall. His hands come into his pockets as he walks forward to Akechi, his eyes watching every movement. They’re playing a cat and mouse game, and neither of them will give. 

“I’m saying you aren’t wise, yes.” A playful undertone comes through, and Akechi simply  _ watches _ . 

“I’m wounded,” Akira says, so dry that Akechi snorts unexpectedly. 

“Now you care about my input?” Akechi chastises. He walks forward with his body beginning to cage around Akira again, arms coming up on either side of his head and blocking the lights from the gaudy chandelier overhead. 

“Hey, it got me this far.” Akira hopes his voice is confident, but he thinks it might come off more breathless. There’s a swirling feeling in his stomach beginning to bubble and rise into his throat. It causes it to feel swollen and hard to talk. He swallows. 

“Your incessant chatter is ridiculous.” Akechi’s voice has also taken on a different tone. Something dark lurking around the harsh edges of his tenor. 

“Put me in my place then,  _ detective _ .” It rolls off to the tongue so easily and Akira can’t help but smirk at the absolute  _ spark _ he sees behind Akechi’s eyes. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

Akira has known from his friends who are omegas, namely Ann, what it’s like when  _ that  _ part of her gets too loud. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks flushed, but she wasn’t embarrassed so much as the memory reminded her of things Akira...definitely didn’t want to imagine about Shiho and herself.

“It’s like all I heard in my head was that my alpha wanted me, that I’m hers.” She’s fiddling with the ends of her pigtails, twirling the strands between her nails. Akira notices that a tangle is beginning to meld up from the movement.

“It was so comfortable and all I wanted was to give in. To be claimed, because in a way...I was claiming her too.” A smirk at the edge of her cheek makes her dimples show. Akira at the time simply said he was happy she found someone and didn’t think too much into it afterward.

Now, the conversation was acting as a reminder. That this situation, just  _ isn’t _ and  _ won’t _ be like that. There’s nothing in Akira that wants to be claimed, he wants to  _ claim. _ He wants to  _ mark. _

_ To make him mine _ . It’s getting louder, the timbre of the alpha in him is getting so impatient. 

Akechi sinks in front of Akira, his mouth leaving hot trails of kisses along his abdomen as he brings his knees beneath him. Akira lets his throat open; the growl comes naturally and he feels a surge of heat spike through him. 

Akechi’s fingers quickly unbutton and push down his pants. Through the fabric, Akechi presses the tip of Akira’s erection. Akira doesn’t say anything, his eyes struggling to decide whether he should be watching Akechi’s ministrations or his face.

He didn’t have to struggle with the dilemma long. Akechi’s mouth presses forward to his underwear and there’s a damp sensation. He is--- _ god _ . 

“Can you please--” 

“Patience is a virtue, Joker _.”_ It was a tease, like everything else Akechi says. Without warning, however, Akira’s fingers grab Akechi’s hair _hard._ He pulls Akechi’s view up to his, and Akira leans down to whisper.

“Don’t call me that.” Akira doesn’t even recognize his voice. It was so low and angry, it surprises even him. It has the desired effect though, Akechi’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second. He swallows, blinks, and just as quick as it comes, the look was gone. There’s a scoff.

“My apologies.” While there is a groan in his voice, there’s a bite on the edge of it. Akira notes how Akechi’s breathing is a little heavier. His scent is becoming overwhelmingly possessive. His face presses forward to the elastic and begins to pull down. Akira’s grip doesn’t waver. 

Akira’s cock springs free soon enough as his underwear pools to his ankles. Akechi leans forward, his face grazing the base of his shaft. It’s gentle but not  _ enough _ . Akira lets a soft sigh out from his nose, but his other hand reaches forward to grab himself. Akechi blinks and watches, backing off slightly. 

“What are you doing?” Akechi indignantly says. 

“Well if you aren’t going to do it right, I’ll do it.” Akira’s voice has deepened considerably, but there’s a playful hint to it. His head is swimming with Akechi to the point he can  _ taste _ him. He feels his tongue poke out and flicks across his lower lip at the thought. Akira knows exactly what he’s doing, and judging by Akechi’s face turning into a scowl, so does he.

“You are  _ insufferable. _ ” Akechi’s hands reach up and roughly push away Akira’s fingers. They quickly wrap around Akira’s cock, and his mouth opens up hot and wet and--

Akira hisses as Akechi moans around him. The sound is so good and Akira feels himself almost melt. 

There’s a flick against his head, a long drag of Akechi’s tongue tasting and savoring. Akira lets his abandoned hand come up to his mouth. He bites down on it, letting a noise out through his throat. There’s a hiss through Akechi’s nose and Akira notices the squint in his eyes. There’s a small grumble in the back of Akechi’s throat that makes Akira’s mouth run dry. 

_ Don’t.  _ The command is wordless and Akira lets the hand fall loosely to his side again. A flutter of lashes confirms that’s what Akechi wants, to hear him. It feels odd, part of him wanting to put Akechi in his place is demanding. The other wants to continue to feel the hot drag of Akechi’s mouth to the point he wants to beg. 

Akira shudders and lets his body completely slack against the wall. Akechi continues to look at him from under his brown fringe. His mouth opens, the visual of his tongue running along the underside of his cock on full display. Akira huffs and Akechi hums, his mouth encasing him again. There’s suction at his tip and Akira begins to blank. 

It doesn’t last very long. Akira begins to pant and his hips shake. When Akechi pulls back with a  _ pop _ , Akira whines while his head falls back. 

Akira breathes heavily. There’s lavender everywhere in and on him. To the point, it feels like his very core has been opened and is being permeated. He sucks his lower lip under his teeth and tries to push himself back up the wall.

Except Akechi is there, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and towering over him again. Akira blinks to try and see past the silhouette, but Akechi’s hand comes up to push up Akira’s chin.

“We’re not done.” Akira doesn’t get to protest or even think, because lips are on top of him and stealing his exhale. Akira lets out a soft noise and raises his shaking arms to Akechi’s shoulders. There's a stuttering exhale out of Akechi’s nose, and Akira realizes he’s  _ chuckling. _

There’s a pressure on his thighs as Akira realizes Akechi is grasping for him. He lets himself fall into the hold, and Akechi hoists up Akira’s thighs around his waist and presses him  _ hard _ into the wall for extra support. Akira feels goosebumps bubble across his skin. He’s never felt so-- _ small. _

“Do you trust me?” Akira’s brain halts. Akechi, asking for trust? Akechi, who is selfish to the point he takes and takes behind a mask of plastic? This is what he wants from Akira?

_ It’s not real _ . The alpha in his head snarls, and his brain chastises. It’s all smoke and mirrors.

“Yeah.” Akira can also lie. He can lie just like Akechi because it’s part of who they are right? The game of cat and mouse, a phantom thief and a detective? Good versus evil? 

That thought makes Akira’s heart squeeze. 

Akechi lets a breath out through his nose. It stutters and is hot against Akira’s collarbone. Akira lets a hand come around to brush Akechi's damp bangs away from his forehead. His eyes are scrunched. Another exhale. 

“Alright,” Akechi weakly accepts. Akira’s world spins for a moment as Akechi quickly pulls away from the wall. The lights ahead swirl along with the splotches of red and purple designs plastered against the wall. It doesn’t stop until tight arms are loosening and lowering him gently on the table. 

_ Why? _ Where does the real Goro Akechi begin? 

Akechi’s eyes are black. The wine pupils have long been swallowed by the black and any hint of them is shadowed in his silhouette against the overhead chandelier. There’s a shift, and Akira blinks against the shadow. 

Akechi brings up a bottle to his mouth and uses his teeth to open it. Akira breathes in deeply through his nose. Another preparation to further prove this isn’t right.

There’s a cool sensation swirling against him. Akira seizes up reflexively. Akechi is over him instantly, his nose rubbing underneath where his neck meets his shoulder. 

“Relax,” Akechi breathes softly. Akira swallows and Akechi’s lips trail to the bob in his throat and kiss it. Akira tries to let his body uncoil, but he’s beginning to feel like a wind-up toy. Parts of him at odds with one another and screaming louder and  _ louder. _

“Do you not want this?” The last sense of escape. Akechi’s giving him an out. The finger against his entrance freezes too. 

Akira doesn’t know what he wants. There’s a boil beginning to simmer under his skin and Akira isn’t sure what will help.

Instead, he reaches up and presses Akechi further into himself. He shakes his head a little too quickly as a yes. Maybe if he pulls enough, it can go past his skin. To the fluttering in his ribs so it can silence every thought that’s begging Akira to  _ run _ and  _ stop.  _

Akechi’s face nods against him and continues. There’s a prod, and his finger slides in. Akira keens and lets his head fall back. 

There’s lips trailing along his neck. There’s no teeth like before. There’s no bruising presses into his being to mark. Rather, to  _ soothe. _

The finger in him ebbs and flows. Akira lets his hips follow the motions until it becomes easier. His breath evens and Akechi huffs.

“You’re doing great.” Akira thinks Akechi isn’t meaning for him to hear it. It’s barely there and wisps on air so lightly Akira isn’t sure he hears it either.

There’s another press. Another uncomfortable give from himself, but Akira moves with the push and pull. Chasing a drop in the desert to cool the burn that’s blooming. 

“Ye-yeah?” Akira huffs. It’s so winded it struggles past his throat. Akechi drags his lips up to Akira’s chin. A gentle kiss as Akechi curls his fingers. 

Akira gasps and feels weightless. Another finger slips in with the others. 

Akechi doesn’t reaffirm. He continues the build-up of a crescendo. Akira’s body begins to tremble looking for something else to focus and ground himself on. There’s the shifting sound of clothes at his back, the wet sound against him. Akechi’s breathing is hot and sounds so  _ good _ against him. 

Akira feels the rumble in his throat before it comes out. Akechi sits back and looks at him with a smirk twitching into the corner of his lips.

“Oh?” He chuckles. His hand pulls away and Akira’s growl turns into a whine. It’s cold against him. “You’re impatient.” 

“And you’re still---aaah,” Akechi’s hands trail down Akira’s thighs and bring his knees up. He wraps them around his waist again as he leans forward. 

“You call  _ me _ insufferable?” Akira whines. He knows it sounds ridiculous but come  _ on. _

“Yes, it’s incredible you’re still this coherent.” Akechi admonishes. Akira sees his tongue dance along his lip. His eyes flicker across Akira’s features, linger on his neck, and then back up again. 

“Let’s fix that.” That’s all the warning Akira gets.

There’s a fire in his being Akira has  _ never _ felt before. Not from the hours of being forced to train with Kasumi, or running through the Metaverse to the point his legs ache. No, this one leaks into his bones and Akira lets out a noise even he doesn’t recognize. 

Akechi rolls his hips and the tip of himself presses further in. The rest of him continues as well. More and more of Akechi is just leaking into all that Akira knows, to the point his head spins and he isn’t sure what part is him and where Akechi might begin in these feelings. 

Once he’s all the way seated, Akechi lets a noise out. It’s low and makes Akira’s core spike hotter because  _ it’s for him, only for him. _ The alpha in him is beginning to brew in thoughts. 

He’s not going to submit that easily.

Akira sucks in a breath between his teeth and lets his legs pull and clench around Akechi, bringing him in.  _ Closer, closer. _

There’s a chuckle from Akira because of course no matter what, they’re equals. They always will be. 

Akechi doesn’t seem to like it, a cut-off moan from Akira bringing him in. There’s a click of his tongue as Akechi’s lips begin to pull back in a low growl.

“Kurusu. You--you want to play that way?” It’s competitive. Once again, of course it is. 

Akira can’t consider it for too long. Akechi’s form pulls back, a drag inside Akira has him moaning and then Akechi descends on him. There’s a graze of teeth against his neck, and a shot of pain straight through his body, and his heart stops. 

There are stars in his eyes; fuzz in his head. Akira can’t think as Akechi’s teeth sink further into his neck. He’s unaware of his mouth opening in a silent scream, his nails roughly dragging down Akechi’s back. Blood draws from the wounds on both of them. His breath is coming in shaky while his vision keeps swimming in and out. The other hand is tangled so firmly in Akechi’s hair, pushing him further into the place where he can mark him. All Akira can think is  _ mine, mine,  _ **_mine._ **

There’s a soft noise, a purr his mind supplies, above him. Akechi is  _ purring _ . 

When he pulls back, the noise doesn’t stop, and gentle hands come to cup his face. They swipe repeatedly across his cheek, and it’s only then Akira realizes, his face is damp.

“It’s---it’s okay.” Akira has never heard Akechi sound like that. It’s so soft and soothing, swaying to the noise he’s making. To comfort. 

“Ah-Akechi…” He doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Their hips are connected still, and there’s just--so much.  _ Too much.  _

“Breathe, Akira.” A gentle command, one that he struggles to comprehend. Through the fog, his mind is spiraling from pleasure. The other part feels unfinished and dissatisfied. Akira’s mouth opens and his teeth show as his lips begin to pull back. A slow rumble builds in his throat. 

“Mine.” Flat, like the sound of a whip. Akira blinks the tears away and there’s steel staring up at Akechi. The purring begins to slowly stop, turning into a chuckle.

“Couldn’t quite hear you Akira.” 

“ **_Mine.”_ ** He grips Akechi’s head to twist it to the side. Akechi grunts when Akira leans up and lets his teeth latch into the crevice of Akechi’s shoulder. An electric feeling zips down Akira’s form, and then there’s iron in Akira’s mouth. A shaky moan tumbles out of Akechi, and his hips snap forward in response. Akira’s breath hisses through his nose but he doesn’t let go. 

It’s so  _ hot _ . Akira lifts himself to meet Akechi, his body scorching. Where there was a molten feeling underneath his skin, it’s replaced with an ignited burn that he wants--- _ needs  _ Akechi.

The thrusts become rough, the corner of the table cutting into Akira’s back uncomfortably. The wood creaks with their movements in protest. Akira lets a groan rumble out of his throat. Akechi keeps moving, the drag of his length marking Akira just as much as the bite on his neck.

It’s dizzying. The brands on the both of them being finalized, and somewhere beyond the fog of it, Akira’s mind chastises him that they’re not compatible. This mark is only temporary, and alphas cannot belong to one another. No matter how much of Akechi’s taste is on his tongue, or Akechi’s scent in his head. He pulls back from the bite, letting his head fall back in a small defeat. Akira’s eyes close tightly, pushing those thoughts away because  _ no,  _ **_no,_ ** _ this moment is ours.  _

**_B_ ** _ ut just this moment.  _

There’s a building press against his entrance and Akira trembles. The building climax of their meeting coming faster and faster. He keens through gritted teeth, letting his back curl off the surface up for Akechi’s taking. 

Akechi looks at him like a prize to be won, a challenge to complete. There’s a stuttering laugh, and then a growl as Akechi lets his hips roughly push and pull in and out of Akira. The friction burning an itch that never existed and will  _ never _ be satisfied probably again. Akira’s teeth give way, his mouth opening while sounds tumble out weakly. 

“You think---you can handle it?” Akira’s eyes peek open, Akechi’s movement slows to meaningful drags, each one long and pressing Akechi’s forming knot against him. Akira smirks.

“I’m surprised you’d even ask.” It’s breathless and barely there. Akira lets his eyes flutter closed, huffing a breath through his nose. He feels nothing but static, a charge running along his body. It zips and tries to stop the clammy feeling of his sweaty skin from being too apparent. 

“I--I mean---Akira I don’t want to hurt you.” Akechi’s voice sounds just as desperate, but it’s honest.  _ Why? _ Akira swallows. His hands reach up and run up Akechi’s forearms, biceps, to his shoulders. 

“You won’t.” Akira whispers. It’s not to comfort him, because it’s the truth. He grips at Akechi’s shoulder and pulls him chest to chest. Akira doesn’t pull him all the way down though, their lips hovering just a hair apart. Akechi’s shaky exhale fans across Akira’s features. It feels almost loving as he leaves an opening to back up if this is too much. 

It’s not. 

Akechi closes the rest of the distance, his lips pressing into Akira’s softly. The intimacy of it is jarring, and Akira lets a small purr out from his throat. Akechi begins to do the same, and their vibrations tumble down the rest of them. Akira isn’t sure who begins to tremble between the two of them, maybe both?

There’s movement next to him. The sound of the bottle being opened again sounds so loud next to their heavy breaths. Akechi’s hands reach down, and there’s a cold sensation against him for just a moment while Akechi makes sure his knot will slide in easier.

A further reminder that they aren’t built for this, and that this wasn’t supposed to happen. Akira’s insides squeeze.

The thought floats away with the rest of him soon enough though. Akechi’s hips begin to move with purpose then. Akira’s breath hisses out between gritted teeth. The hands-on Akechi’s shoulders slide to his back. Blunt nails begin to dig once again into Akechi’s skin. 

The heat is consuming. Akira’s purr turns into a growl and he presses himself down, against the bulge. Akechi lets out a keen and pushes his hips forward. Once, twice, and a few more until Akira’s hole begins to give, and one final roll of his hips has Akechi fully pressed inside. 

“A-Akira--” Akechi whines softly. There’s a molten hot feeling inside of him that feels like it’s branding him more than their bites. It stings and feels so tight, and there’s a wet feeling that bleeds through him. 

Akira’s eyes squeeze shut, his breath holds. It’s-- _ it’s too much _ . It doesn’t hurt, no, but there’s a torrent inside him. The heat, no _ fire _ under his skin has turned into waves that move outward from where they meet. Akira feels like he’s drowning. There’s not enough breath he can get in his lungs. 

He knows he’s screaming because of a burn in his throat. His eyes open and Akechi’s gaze is wide on him, watching. The corner of his mouth twitches up into a smirk. Akechi’s tongue darts out and swipes his lower lip at the sight of Akira finally being pulled under. Waves of pleasure tugging him further and further, until there’s only Goro Akechi under his skin.

Akira feels his release leave him, the pulses turn into a constant for a moment, and then it’s white-hot. Akira isn’t sure what happens for a few moments. He feels himself blinking, but he can’t see anything. There’s static in his ears and his eyes. His body is trembling. Against him, Akechi’s body finally gives and falls on top of him. 

It’s enough to bring him back into himself. 

When his vision stops swimming, the glaring light from above seems like too much. His eyes squeeze shut. Eventually, that feels like too much energy too, and Akira turns his head into Akechi’s hair. A snort rumbles above him.

“Are you always this easily broken?” Akechi is trying to tease, but it comes out so winded there’s a different type of edge to it. Akira inhales and smells Akechi’s scent taking on a different tinge.  _ Jealousy,  _ his mind supplies. 

“I--” Akira’s voice sounds like it was dragged over rocks. There’s too much cotton in the back of his throat. He swallows and tries again. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Akira admits. His hands are slowly circling on Akechi’s shoulders. He feels crescent moon marks indented in the skin. “This was my first.” A final admission. Above him, Akechi’s breath skips, and so does his heart. It hammers a little bit faster trapped between their chests. 

“Oh.” Akira can’t help but let out a wheeze of a chuckle. It’s the most undignified response Akechi has  _ ever _ given him. 

“Did you expect something different?” Akira coughs out the rest of a laugh. Suddenly, there’s a weight that wasn’t intended to be there in the statement. Something hanging.

“I...don’t know what I expected actually. I suppose, yes.” Akechi’s voice tampers off, getting quieter with his statement. The feeling seems to get heavy, then disperses into a warmth. Akira feels his heartthrob.

“You really must not know me. You really think I--I just bite people for the hell of it?” Akira isn’t sure why the truth is being dragged out of him, but it sounds rough and tangled with emotions he isn’t considering. 

Akechi finally begins to pull away, and the moment is broken before it can be acknowledged or explored further. Akira hisses at the drag of Akechi’s length leaving him, and it’s suddenly cold, and empty. 

Akechi turns away from him. He begins collecting his clothes, and he rummages for a bit in the pockets of his pants as pulls out a handkerchief. 

“Well, we should be getting back. Would hate to worry your friends after all. And ---well we wouldn’t want them suspicious.” It feels ridiculous. Akira lets out a frustrated sigh.

“They’ll be suspicious regardless, or did you forget you practically mauled my neck?” Akira turns his head to further emphasize his point. There is drying blood that feels crusted against his skin. Akechi’s face tugs into a grimace as he looks away.

“It’s not like they’ll smell me on you after you go bathe.” And there’s that harsh truth again. It’s glaring, ugly, and rears its head in Akira’s gut.  _ Of course.  _

  
“Is that why you did this?” His voice is small, trembling hands reach up to his neck and press to the wound. Yes, it’ll heal, and then there will be nothing beyond the dust settling.

Nothing beyond Akechi’s plan that Akira is already fully aware of. There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t quite swallow down. Akechi doesn’t answer anyway. Instead, fully sheathing himself and the rest of his body in his clothes. It hides everything, right up to the high collar hiding the bite Akira also left on him. Nothing except for tousled hair and the lingering smell of Akira’s scent. There isn’t anything that remains and soon, it’ll all be washed away.

Akira ‘tchs’ and rolls himself up to do the same. They don’t speak about it further. Not after Sae’s palace breaks and turns into a dark night on the dim streets. Not after they part and Akira feels the burns of all the marks against his body. And not when a new day starts and continues them down a destined rabbit hole path. 

The 20th of November comes and goes. In December, a Black Mask and biting words that are snarled with jealousy and hatred further prove it didn’t mean anything. Akira hates it because part of him hoped. It really did. 

Akira does what he does best though, and cages the feelings behind his ribs and the ache of his heart. It’s not like they’ll have the chance to talk about it beyond that moment. Morgana looks at him like something to pity as he curls in on himself that night. If he clutches Akechi’s glove tight enough, he thinks he can smell the faint scent of lavender. 

  
  
  



End file.
